


The Harrowing

by Kitty_Drakeheart



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Harrowing, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5806414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_Drakeheart/pseuds/Kitty_Drakeheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-Inquisition companion piece to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4062907/chapters/9144079">To The End</a></p>
<p>Sylvie Trevelyan is awoken in the middle of the night to attend her Harrowing in the Circle of Ostwick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Harrowing

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this has been in my head for a while and given the events/things mentioned in Chapter 24 of To The End it made the most sense to get it out my brain and posted concurrently with that chapter.

 

“Apprentice Trevelyan.”

Sylvie grumbled sleepily, turning over and pulling the blanket up over her head. She was dimly aware of someone calling on her for a second time and the sound of another person clearing their throat. Mumbling into her pillow, Sylvie burrowed deeper into the mattress under the assumption that she was in the midst of some inconvenient dream.

“We don't have time for this.”

The blanket was unceremoniously pulled away from her and tossed onto the floor. Sitting up angrily, Sylvie rubbed at her eyes and glared at the person who had exposed her to the chilly air of the apprentice quarters. She was greeted by the stern face of Knight-Captain Quinton, his harsh features exaggerated by the shadows cast from the lantern being held by the other Templar beside him.

“Senior Enchanter Casek?” She asked, voice rough from sleep as she peered around the Knight-Captain to the mage standing behind him.

“Get dressed quickly, child.” The old man said softly, his kind, familiar face laced with unconcealed concern. “We will be waiting outside.” Casek turned and shuffled out into the hall, followed closely by the Knight-Captain and the other Templar ...not before the former had directed a leer in Sylvie's direction, dark eyes roaming over her nightgown clad figure. She glared at the Templar's back, fighting the urge to singe his hair as he left. Swinging her legs off the bed, Sylvie stuffed her feet into her shoes and stood up as she pulled the nightgown over her head.

“What's going on?” A sleepy voice asked from across the room. Sylvie looked up to see all three of her room mates peering at her through the darkness. She shrugged as she picked the previous days robes up from the floor and wrapped them round her shoulders, sliding her arms through the sleeves.

“A birthday surprise?” Sylvie replied sarcastically as she fastened the many buttons on her green apprentice robes. Someone in the room snorted derisively.

“Yes I'm sure the Knight-Captain and your mentor only want to take you away in the middle of the night to wish you a happy birthday.” Abigail whispered. “What did you do, Sylvie?”

“She's not _done_ anything.” Lowena chimed in, blankets making a scuffing sound as she got out of her bed and lit a candle with a wave of her hand. “It's her Harrowing.”

An almost unnatural hush fell over the group and Sylvie's fingers paused mid-fasten. She looked up at Lowena, the redheads brown eyes wide in the candlelight. Swallowing heavily, Sylvie cast her gaze to both Abigail and Patricia in turn, each of them wearing a similar expression.

“Well then...” Sylvie trailed off, clenching her fists at her sides when she felt her hands beginning to shake. “Happy fucking birthday to me.”

“You've buttoned your robes squint.” Lowena said with a tut, coming over to unfasten then refasten the garment. “There ...better.” Sylvie thanked the redhead and instantly found herself pulled into a tight hug.

“Maker's arse, Lolo ...I'm not going into battle.” Sylvie said, patting Lowena on the back.

“You could be.” Abigail helpfully interjected causing everyone to glare at her. “What? We don't know what happens in the Harrowing ...Sylvie could be thrown into a room full of Dark Spawn for all we know.”

“Because there just so happens to be a locked room full of Dark Spawn in the tower?” Patricia retorted from her side of the room. Before Sylvie could reply there was a hard knock on the door.

“Hurry up, Trevelyan.” The Knight-Captain's gruff voice carried easily through the door.

“I'll see you all soon.” Sylvie said, making her way across the room and reaching for the door handle.

“Unless you die.”

All Sylvie heard as she left the room was the soft thunk of a pillow hitting something and Abigail's disgruntled squeal. Clicking the door behind her, she noticed two more Templar flanking the door, both of whom fell into step beside her as she walked through the halls behind Casek and the Knight-Captain, the lecherous Templar bringing up the rear.

The party travelled in silence as they ascended the tower, nerves beginning to twist at Sylvie's insides as she became more and more sure that she was being led to The Harrowing chamber. The nature of The Harrowing was kept secret from all apprentices which, as far as Sylvie was concerned, was monumentally unfair. How was one supposed to prepare for a test that literally meant life or death if they were given no information? Oh sure, she could opt to become Tranquil instead ...and she knew of a mage who had indeed chosen that option. If Sylvie was certain of one thing, it was that she would rather be struck down right here in the hallway than face the fate of a Tranquil. Eventually they reached the top of the tower, her two Templar guards taking up position on either side of the large, ornate door that led to the chamber.

“Knight-Commander Mathus and First Enchanter Emmeline await you inside, Sylvie.” Casek said softly, grey eyes watching the Knight-Captain as he moved away. Sylvie frowned at the elderly mage, folding her arms.

“You don't come with me?” She asked, inwardly cursing how small and scared her voice suddenly sounded. Casek shook his head sadly, placing a wrinkled hand on her shoulder.

“While I cannot tell you the ...contents of The Harrowing, just know that I have prepared you the best I can over these last nine years and I will be waiting here for your return.”

Sylvie nodded slowly, bringing her own hand up to squeeze at the hand of her mentor. She wasn't precisely sure how teaching her the best ways to control the flames that were always so close to the surface would help in The Harrowing but ...she trusted Casek implicitly. Maybe they simply wanted her to light a bunch of candles without killing anyone. Green eyes darting to their Templar companions, Sylvie leaned in close to Casek.

“It's not a room full of Dark Spawn is it?” She whispered, finding herself startled when the Senior Enchanter let out a watery chuckle.

“The Harrowing will remain a secret until you go through that door child...” He hesitated, giving Sylvie a warm smile before lowering his voice. “It's not a room full of Dark Spawn.”

With a chuckle of her own, Sylvie straightened her posture, shaking out her shoulders before pushing open the heavy door. It swung closed behind her with a thud, the room in front of her lit only by the moonlight streaming through the high windows and a bright, blue glow from a pedestal in the centre of a dais. Beside the dais stood the First Enchanter, Knight-Commander and four Templar, their identities hidden by the closed helms they wore.

Sylvie made her way towards them, realising that the pedestal emitting the glow was filled with pure lyrium, it's low thrum pulling at the magic inside her. The First Enchanter nodded to Sylvie as she clasped her hands in front of her.

“You know why you are here?” Emmeline asked, her strong, Orlesian accent echoing off the walls of the chamber.

“My Harrowing.” Sylvie replied plainly, not entirely trusting herself to speak more than a few words. The gravity of the situation hadn't quite sunk in until she stepped through those doors ...the knowledge that she was perhaps minutes from death suddenly at the forefront of her mind.

“Your Harrowing.” The First Enchanter agreed with a nod, gesturing towards the dais with an outstretched arm. “Let it be heard that I, First Enchanter Emmeline of the Ostwick Circle of Magi, do declare that the apprentice before you stands ready to face the trial of The Harrowing and, by so doing, she embarks down the path that all mages before her have walked, and that all mages after her will travel.”

Sylvie frowned slightly at the formality of the speech. In this very room there had been any number of failures ... _deaths_ and hers could be the next one that these walls would see. For the faces of the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander to be so ...dispassionate was almost infuriating.

“Do you accept the task of The Harrowing?” The Knight-Commander asked, both of his hands at rest on the pommel of his sword.

“Do you mean- would I rather be made Tranquil?” Sylvie snapped before she could stop herself.

“Trevelyan.” Emmeline hissed, voice low and warning. The Knight-Commander held up a hand.

“That is indeed your other option.” He gestured towards the dais. “Step up and reach into the pedestal or be escorted to the depths of the Circle Tower and receive the sunburst brand upon your forehead. The choice is yours.”

Sylvie resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead strode purposefully up the three steps and onto the dais. The hum of the lyrium was stronger here ...almost like a song. She heard the clanking of armour as each of the four Templars each took up position on a side of the platform. Pulling her gaze away from the shimmering blue surface of the lyrium, Sylvie locked eyes with the First Enchanter. Emmeline gave her a brief nod, face still betraying no feelings about the situation. Scowling, Sylvie plunged her hand into the lyrium and her entire world exploded.

 

\- - -

 

The slow, steady sound of lapping waves filled the early morning air as Sylvie blinked against the rising sun. That she was in the fade was clear. Everything was muted- sounds, colours, smells- none of them were as strong as they would have been on the real Ostwick coast and there was a ...wavering, a haze, as if the very sea itself would dissipate into a mist were she to touch it. So this was The Harrowing then? Being forced into the fade to do what exactly?

A nearby presence prickled at Sylvie's senses and she turned to see a tall, cloaked woman gliding serenely along the shore. There was something familiar about the woman that Sylvie couldn't quite pinpoint until the figure drew closer, delicate pale fingers pulling back a hood to reveal a pouring length of brown hair.

“Mother...?” Sylvie whispered and the woman smiled softly, green eyes warm as she nodded. Her memories of her mother were vague, Sylvie having been only four years old when Lady Trevelyan had died, but that this figure was at least attempting to _look_ like her mother Sylvie had little doubt. “Is this the fade then? Or am I actually already dead and you're here to spirit me to the beyond?”

“It is the fade, sweetheart.” Lady Trevelyan replied, her voice a soft echo. “I am here to help you through your Harrowing.” Sylvie frowned, biting the inside of her cheek thoughtfully before replying.

“No one helps a mage prepare for The Harrowing before if happens ...they don't even tell us what it is! Why would there suddenly be help now?” A flash of anger at the injustice of the situation passed over Sylvie but this ...figure of her mother seemed unperturbed. In fact, Lady Trevelyan had simply smiled at the outburst and glided closer.

“There is help now because you are correct, my dear.” Lady Trevelyan said softly, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Sylvie's ear. “It is unfair to send so many young mages into the unknown like this ...to face death so wholly unprepared. Do you know what happens around your sleeping form while you are here?” Sylvie shook her head in response and her mother held out a hand. “Of course you don't ...because no one tells you poor dears a single thing.”

On instinct, Sylvie took her mothers hand and in an instant their surroundings changed. She was back in The Harrowing chamber, or at least it _seemed_ that way. Sylvie couldn't feel the cold stone beneath her feet or feel the chill of the room. The only thing that felt solid was her mothers warm hand in hers. An odd sensation washed over Sylvie as she looked down at herself lying prone on the dais. Each of the four Templars had their hands on their swords, obviously ready to draw them at a moments notice. Occasionally, she saw the Knight-Commander glance outside at the moon as if charting it's passage across the night sky...

“He's timing me.” Sylvie blurted out, looking to her mother for confirmation and receiving a nod in response.

“And the other Templar you see here...” Lady Trevelyan gestured across the room. “One of them has been dealt the task of plunging their well-honed blade straight through your heart should you take too long.”

“Too long to do what?” Sylvie shouted, stepping away from her mother and standing protectively over her own sleeping body. “How am I meant to succeed if no one fucking tells me what I'm meant to be doing?”

“Language, girl.” Lady Trevelyan chided, making her way towards Sylvie. “Now you can truly see the injustice of it all but can you see why?”

“They are scared of me ...scared of all mages.” The answer came quickly to Sylvie, almost as if someone had whispered it to her. “And so they force us into towers ...make us face tests without telling us what the tests are...” Sylvie began to pace back and forth on the dais, ignoring the odd sensation of not being able to feel the floor beneath her feet.

It was barbaric! A Templar would spill her blood without a second thought for any perceived failure in a situation that _they_ put her in in the first place. While that happened the First Enchanter would simply stand by and allow it to happen. Casek could have warned her! He was meant to be her mentor ...her friend ...the closest thing she had had to parent these last nine years but even _he_ let her wander into this room without so much as _hint_ of what she was going to face. Now she was going to fail because she took too long in a task with no known rules ...Sylvie could feel her mana surging ...feel the prickle of flames at her finger tips.

“Yes, sweetheart ...let them all see the error of their ways ...show them they had good reason to fear your power ...your strength.”

Sylvie stopped pacing, head tilted as she looked at the apparition of her mother. There had been something ...wrong about her voice and there was something increasingly wrong about how she looked. For the slightest moment, out the corner of her eyes, Sylvie could have sworn that Lady Trevelyan had glowed ...like embers crackling through old coals.

“You're the test...” Sylvie said quietly and her mother frowned.

“No ...I am the _help._ ” Lady Trevelyan replied. “I'm here to help you fulfil the true extent of your power. The flames you have been taught to wield are _nothing_ compared to the true inferno that rages inside you.”

Movement in The Harrowing chamber distracted them both, the Knight-Commander beginning to circle the dais and glance more frequently out the window.

“There isn't much time left.” Lady Treveylan reached out her hand to Sylvie. “Let me help you ...let me take that rage inside you and show you how to enact your fiery vengeance on those who would cage you.”

For the briefest of seconds Sylvie hesitated, her anger still rolling below the surface and her palms burning from the flames she was holding back. It would be so easy to show them all that they had made a mistake in pushing her this far. The Templars ...the First Enchanter ...Casek ...they would all pay for this... The thought of Casek made her pause, the first words he ever said to her coming to the forefront of her memory.

“ _The only thing you need to know, child, is that_ _ **you**_ _control the flames- they do_ _ **not**_ _control you. If you remember that then everything that comes after is simple.”_

Sylvie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the cries of anger from what she was now sure was a demon. Sure enough, when she opened her eyes again a being of pure flame was slithering it's way towards her.

“Foolish child! You _will_ give me my freedom!”

Darting backwards, Sylvie raised a hand towards the demon and scowled in determination. Rage demons were beings of pure fire, immune to the magic she so preferred but, steeling herself, Sylvie cast a stream of ice towards the demon and silently hoped that it wasn't too weak. It struck the demon in the chest, momentarily knocking it backwards but doing seemingly little damage. Feeling panic begin to rise in her throat, Sylvie jumped down off the dais but her surroundings changed again, propelling her back onto the beach from earlier.

The demon was still advancing and Sylvie began racking her brain for anything that could help. She had always scoffed at the suggestion she should improve her abilities with _all_ the elements and now her teachers were going to be proved correct. She tried launching a stream of ice again but the spell missed the target completely, the lack of a staff to direct and amplify her spells causing a severe disadvantage. Where the fuck would she find a staff in the fade ...wherever she bloody well liked! If Sylvie had the time she would have smacked herself on the forehead- everything that exists in the fade is the expression of a thought so were she to think about a staff...

Before she had even finished the thought, Sylvie felt the familiar, comforting weight of a staff in her hand. It was basic, but she hoped it would be enough as she directed more ice towards the demon. The spell struck home this time, the staff giving focus to the ice and strengthening it's power. Even under the dire circumstances she faced, Sylvie was unable to suppress her feeling of discomfort at the use of an element she was so very disconnected from. Her spell had briefly frozen the demon but it didn't look to be holding, the ice encasing the molten form already beginning to drip onto the ground. Sylvie ran forward, casting again before she reached the demon and swung the staff as hard as she could causing the demon to shatter in a dramatic spray of glimmering shards. Sylvie only briefly felt the cold spray on her face before being blinded by a blast of light.

 

\- - -

 

“I believe she is coming round.”

Groaning, Sylvie opened her eyes, the face in front of her taking a few moments to come into focus. The First Enchanter was staring down at her over the rim of her spectacles, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

“I told you there was no need for concern, Knight-Commander.” Emmeline said matter-of-factly as she helped Sylvie into a seated position. Sylvie closed her eyes against the sudden dizziness she felt, rubbing a hand across her forehead.

“No need for concern?” The Knight-Commander snapped. “The curtains were on fire!”

Frowning, Sylvie opened her eyes again and confirmed that the curtains were, indeed, smoking slightly ...and at least five inches shorter than they had been. One of the Templar was no longer wearing his helmet and, although Sylvie couldn't be certain in the dim light of the chamber, he appeared to be missing an eyebrow. She swallowed heavily, painfully aware of how close to being struck down she must have been.

“The flames have been doused and Trevelyan has emerged from the fade without possession from a demon.” Emmeline replied, helping a wobbly Sylvie to her feet. “Not the most ...tidy of Harrowings but a successful one nonetheless.”

The Knight-Commander scowled but said nothing further, simply folding his arms across his armoured chest. With some amount of aid from the First Enchanter, Sylvie descended the steps of the dais and crossed the room. They paused at the door and Sylvie straightened herself up, wanting to leave the room on her own power.

“How close was I to failure?” Sylvie asked quietly. Emmeline frowned and glanced over her shoulder.

“You certainly cut it extremely close ...but all that matters is that you were successful.” The First Enchanter nodded, opening the door for Sylvie. “Well done, Trevelyan.”

Sylvie stepped out of the chamber, breathing a sigh of relief. Her entire body felt heavy and her eyelids were already beginning to droop with exhaustion as she slowly shuffled towards the stairs.

“Thank the Maker! You almost had me worried, child.” Casek's voice startled Sylvie and she turned to see him awkwardly haul himself out of a chair, joints cracking as he did so.

“Apparently you were right to be worried ...the First Enchanter said I cut it close...” Sylvie admitted, folding her arms. Casek tutted and patted her shoulder.

“Well, girl, you never did do things the easy way.” He smiled proudly at her. “But I knew you would manage it.”

“What happens now?” Sylvie asked with a frown as the two of them began to make their way back down the tower.

“Now you _formally_ pick your specialisation and you get settled in to a long life of studying it ...honing it ...perhaps even teaching others in the future.” Casek told her.

“Sounds riveting.” Sylvie replied, smiling to herself. “Here was me thinking I'd maybe now get sent out by the First Enchanter on some exciting mission.” Casek chuckled and shook his head.

“I know you better than that, child. You like the comfort of your own bed and the company of books too much to go off on some grand adventure.” Casek said.

“I'm sure one day I'll be just like you then- old and grey, teaching an endless supply of mages in this tower how _not_ to accidentally blow things up.” Sylvie laughed, the sound echoing off the walls of the empty hall.

“I certainly hope so, child.”

 


End file.
